


Shattered Glass

by geniewithwifi



Series: A Kaleidoscope Between [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Curses, F/M, Gen, Mirror Universe, Mirrors, Seven Years Bad Luck, mirror au, realms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver barely remembers a time when he wasn't trapped in the large, cavernous, white hall called the mirror verse. He's been cursed since he's was four years old, taken from his family. He's a Reflection, the person on the other side of the mirror, constrained to imitate their every action. He's been here for so long, he forgets that he's human. </p><p>Until the day a girl shattered a looking glass.</p><p>Sequel to the one shot <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3802525">Mirror Image</a> Reading that first is highly encouraged but not necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/gifts).



> This is my very very very _very_ long awaited sequel to my fic, Mirror Image. This is Oliver's POV and gives insights that were sorely lacking. How did he end up here? Where was he? How did he fall in love with her? All these questions and more will be answered. 
> 
> It's also a THANK-YOU fic for reaching 2.5k followers on tumblr. This piece is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are very much my own. (For some reason, I'm really digging the "Character A is cursed, Character B must free him" trope. You'll see why in the next couple weeks.)
> 
> For now, please enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated, but no required.

There was a time before the glass, before he stood in front of the window, mimicking her every move, the thoughts and echoes of the mirror verse reverberating around him.

On the other side of the glass, the reverse side of the mirror, that’s where our dreams go, our hopes our failures, the epitome of ourselves, reflecting back at us.

Every individual has a mirror image. A Reflection.

Oliver just happened to _be_ someone _else’s._

He remembers bits and pieces of his life before, his mother picking him up, his father’s rumbling laugh. He had a best friend, with dark hair and large blue eyes, who would chase him around.

He remembered being loved.

Then one day he woke up here. In a white world, with portals every few feet. The room was huge, with thousands of people, most standing, some sitting, in front of windows to the outside world. If he craned his head far enough, he could make out a door that probably lead to another great room, holding just as many hosts.

The mirror verse was the twisted, empty, and strange side of the reverse.

It was the place of honesty.

Because mirrors never lied.

Oliver woke up on a bed, facing a huge screen, almost like a TV. He remembered those from his time in Reality. His bed reverted to a stool, and if he thought hard enough, he could make it into a comfy armchair.

He was exploring, looking widely around the vast hall, in awe of the shiny portals and the people fettered to them. Some were relaxing, some dancing, others walking, people fixing their hair. It all seemed weird and normal and Oliver remember wanting his mother, to explain what was going on, when suddenly, he felt his muscles tense and against his own volition, stared at the screen.

A baby stared back.

He tried to look away from her (he assumed it was a her. Only girls wore pink) but his neck refused to move. Then she blinked out from the window and it went black, just a gray slate and he could move again.

A few moments later it happened again.

And again.

And again.

He was tired all of a sudden, exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. So he did.

In the middle of the nap he was pulled upright, facing forward. The baby appeared again and Oliver was reminded how much he had disliked babies. They were such ugly things. Always slobbering on things, crying, throwing up.

His mother had tried to let him hold one once, but he had shaken his head and pouted, telling his mother firmly that he would never touch one. Ever.

She had smiled a knowing smile, that meant he would understand when he was older (Oliver hated that look), and taken the baby away from him. Oliver remember being relieved.

Now, in his window, the child was being held by her mother who was tossing her hair away from her face. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver could see a person next to his portal, who looked exactly like the mother, and was mirroring her. The only difference was her arms were empty.

The mother’s Reflection was so close to him he could hear what was happening on the other side of the glass.

“Come on, Felicity. Just go back to sleep for Mama. We don’t wanna wake Daddy do we? Do we? No we don’t. That’s it, that’s a good girl. Just fall asleep to the sound of my voice.”

Oliver watched as the little girl, Felicity, closed her eyes, and Oliver could move again.

That was his Mirror Image’s name.

Felicity.

* * *

His every whim was tied to hers. She jumped, he jumped. She danced, he danced. She took off her clothes, he tried, but his clothes never went away.

She touched the mirror and he touched back.

She was his master, and he her servant. Her Reflection.

Felicity tried to talk to him but he couldn’t talk back. He could hear her words inside his head, but he never said them. He couldn’t. Oliver was different from the other Reflections, in that he was already a human being, he had his own thoughts and desires. He wasn’t Felicity, but he wasn’t himself.

When Felicity was seven, him eleven, that’s when he found out what he was. A man, dressed in a dark suit like he remember his father wore, dark hair slicked back and cold blue eyes that seemed hollow walked towards him. It was unusual because a Reflection never left their post. But here was a man- or a reverse of a man, Oliver wasn’t sure- moving freely about the room.

He stopped in front of Oliver. Oliver stared back. Felicity had stopped looking in mirrors around this time, meaning that most of the time he was free to do what he wanted, whenever he wanted. In the mirror verse he had no need for food or drink, no need to relieve himself. Most times, he forgot that he was even human.

A random, thought provoking idea came to him. If he was here, in the mirror verse, then where was _his_ Reflection? What had happened to it? Had it died, been killed? Was it shut up in some closet, just waiting to be set free?

The free man slapped his cheek, bringing Oliver from his thoughts.

“Owww!” he reacted, the pain smarting his cheek. “What was that for?”

“Pay attention, brat.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at the man’s tone, but decided to do as commanded. He didn’t want to be hit again.

“You’ve been cursed.” What did that mean? What was ‘cursed’? The man must have seen his confusion because he sighed and backtracked. “You, or maybe your parents, are being punished, that’s what cursed generally means. It means that magic has been used to trap you in here. My master, Lord of the mirror verse, couldn’t stop it from happening. So you’re here.”

“Why—“

“Don’t ask questions. Just do as you’re told. There is a way to break the curse, but only your soulmate,” he gestured towards the gray slate, meaning Felicity, “can get you out of here.”

Oliver nodded, hopefully understanding. His punishment, his _curse,_ could end only by Felicity’s help.

_His Soulmate._

The words thrilled him even though he didn’t know what they meant. But he knew that meant Felicity was special.

Because she had him.

The free man shook Oliver’s shoulders. “Listen to me boy, I can only say this once, so I need you to be listening attentively. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Good. The girl has to break seven times seventy mirrors. 490 mirrors. 70 of them have to be handmade. Now a days, everything is machine made. But for her to get you out, 70 have to be handmade. The older, the better.

“Now, the first handmade mirror broken means you can talk to her, connect with her. It opens a tiny crack in the mirror verse. That’s why people think it brings bad luck. Because the two worlds should forever remain apart, and Fate doesn’t like people messing with that. There is balance, the verse and the reverse, and the two should never meet. It’s like the dark bleeding into the light, mixing two chemicals that should never touch. Bad things happen when they do.

“Your soulmate needs to open a portal to get you out. Then both of your Reflections will be released and order will return to both worlds. It is very important that that happens, do you understand, Oliver? She needs to set you free. “

From far away, the man’s eyes looked cold and uninviting. Up close, Oliver could see that it wasn’t ice, but glass, reflections swirling away in his iris. He was the mirror verse, a slave to its chaotic presence. The man was earnest in his declaration, he wanted Oliver to be free. He wasn’t a cruel man, he was what the mirror verse made him.

A Reflection.

The Lord of the mirror verse _was_ the mirror verse  _itself_ , and every living thing has a reflection. The mirror verse was _a living thing._

The realization made Oliver amazed, his mouth dropping open in surprise. The man winked, holding a finger to his mouth.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? It can be our secret. Now the first broken glass will let you connect with her, the second you will be able to tell her about the curse. From there on out, every mirror she breaks will open the portal wider and wider, giving you more freedom.

“Now you won’t see me again. It takes seven years, you know, to fix up a break in the mirror verse. And it’s my job to seal them. But the Lord demanded I come talk to you because we need to get you out. Can you do this for me?”

Oliver could only nod, anticipation curling in his gut. Soon he would be free.

The man vanished and Oliver went back to lying on his couch, idly listening to the conversations surrounding Felicity.

* * *

He felt the changes his body went through, during the years as a Reflection. His clothes grew with him, the dark green jacket he had come with extending around his growing limbs. His cheeks started growing hair. It was coarse to the touch, but since Reflections couldn’t change their appearance, he could do nothing about it.

Felicity noticed once. She literally stopped and stared, running her hand over her cheek, make him mimic her.

“You’re actually real. You’re not my imagination are you?” She spoke into his mind. He couldn’t answer her but he wished he could. He would scream YES, I’M REAL, but he was confined to her actions. Whenever Felicity talked to or near a mirror or a particularly reflective surface like a dark window, Oliver would hear her thoughts in his mind.

She became his best friend, the voice always in his ear. He watched her become a beautiful woman, smart and capable. Felicity, he found, he was really attracted to, as his hormones raced whenever she accidently glanced in a mirror in a revealing way. Sometimes it was in her underwear, other times it was just a towel. The rare occasion was her entirely naked and Oliver wished he could look away. Every time, his heart started to pound, and his stomach clenched. His pants became tight with lust and he found that occupying his brain with non-suggestive thoughts helped him to calm down.

Felicity became his teacher, in a way. Since he was taken when he was so young, he had barely begun to speak, let alone learn new and confusing words. Felicity, the brilliant prodigy, learned every word she could. That’s how he learned about hormones, sex, love, processors, hair.  When she learned, he learned.

When Felicity turned sixteen (he had been in here for sixteen years. Wow.) she had received a mirror from her Aunt. He knew because he could hear Donna talking next to him, about how beautiful the mirror was, but Felicity looked at him, disappointed. He knew she hated mirrors, they were useless for her because she didn’t see herself. She saw him. And unfortunately for Felicity, he couldn’t put makeup on for her.

She set him down on the table but the mirror slipped off. Oliver watched as splinters appeared in the gray slate, at the edges.

A break.

A tug in his gut, a snap in his mind and there was only word to say.

“Felicity!” He watched as she looked around, her face catching on the mirror shards probably, but not noticing him.

“Mom, did you say my name?”

“No, sweetheart, I didn’t. Why?” He heard Donna ask.

Felicity shrugged, turning back to him and sweeping up the glass shards. “I thought I heard someone say my name.”

He had to try again.

“Felicity!”

“What!?” She turned away from him and he groaned in frustration.

Donna asked if she was alright and Felicity pacified her. But Oliver could keep this up all day. He had the opportunity to communicate with her and he didn’t want to be stuck here forever.

He kept calling her name over and over, catching glimpses of her as she got ready for bed, internally begging for her to look up, to look at him.

“Please, Felicity, please. Just look at me. Felicity!” He knew that only her name could get through the breach, it was tailored that way, but he couldn’t help speaking in sentences.

He kept it up, hope filling him to the brim. She would figure it out. She was so smart—

Felicity entered the bathroom, looking exhausted and he felt a pang of pity. She was like this because of him, because he kept calling her name. She washed her hands, splashing her face with water. Desperate he called, yelled really.

“FELICITY!”

She jerked up and looked right at him. He felt the constraints of the curse lock into his limbs, as he was forced to imitate her actions.

Except he could speak.

“Felicity, Felicity, Felicity, Felicity.”

She jumped back in shock, slightly shaking. Finally having her attention, he exhaled in relief.

“Felicity,” he said gently. Because she was _looking_ at him.

And he could connect to her.

“You can talk?”

“Of course I can talk, Felicity. I am human.”

“How come you never talk back to me?”

“I talk to you all the time, Felicity. It’s you who never talk back.”

 “Why are you talking now?”

“Because you broke a mirror, Felicity.” He loved her name. He would say it over and over again and it would never grow old.

“WILL YOU STOP SAYING MY NAME!?!”

He was exasperated. Oliver thought her smarter than that.

“Felicity…” He could hear the disappointment in his voice. He wasn’t sure if that translated through.

“Is Felicity the only word you know?”

“No, Felicity.”

“I guess that means yes.” She muttered. He wished he could throw his hands up in frustration. “Can you blink?” She asked.

Deciding to oblige her and try, he found that he could. He could blink and he could say her name.

She glanced up at him and laughed, probably at the fact that he was blinking really fast. “Okay okay, you can blink.  I’ll ask the questions and you can blink once for yes, twice for no. Okay?”

He blinked.

“Is ‘Felicity’ the only word you can say?”

 Technically no, but she didn’t know that. Her name was the only thing that go through the breach.

So he blinked once.

“Okay. Why is it now that you’re only talking to me? No wait that’s not a yes or no question. Can you hear me? That’s an obvious answer of course you can hear me, because you wouldn’t be responding if you couldn’t hear me.”

“Felicity.” He calmed, stopping her rambling. He loved that, because it was such a quirk in her personality.

“Are you trapped?”

He blinked yes.

“How can I—no. Can I free you?”

Finally. A good question. They were getting somewhere. He responded affirmatively.

She grew quiet, staring at the sink for a long while. He couldn’t move because he was in the corner of her eye and the curse had him in place. He waited impatiently for her to speak again.

Eventually, she looked up. “Did I do something today that let you speak to me?”

Yes.

A beat. Then, “The mirror! I broke the mirror. Is that why you can say my name?” Oh here was the smart girl he had admired. He winked a solid yes.

He watched as Felicity heaved in breaths, pacing back and forth. He could imagine the wheels and gears turning in her head.

“By breaking a mirror I was able to have him talk to me. Perhaps if I break more mirrors he can go free. Am I right? I break the mirror, you can go free.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely correct and he had to say no. A specific number of mirrors was required.

“But I thought breaking the mirror had you talking.”

Yes. It did.

“Oliver! Make up your mind. If I break this mirror, can you talk to me more?”

Yes. _Please break the mirror_.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” 

She vanished from his view, the mirror fading to gray for a few seconds before lighting up again. Felicity had a wrench in hand her fierce gaze off to his left. She swung and more cracks appeared at the edge of his portal.

His mouth opened against his will, but it wasn’t Felicity this time. Out of him came the word “Seven.”

He was as surprised as she was.

“Can you say more?” No. He told her as much.

Felicity hit the mirror again. No more cracks appeared on his end, but the words poured out again.

“Seven times seventy.” It was the curse! The curse was making him say these things, not the mirror verse.

Her mother came in then, yelling at her. Felicity and Oliver bowed their heads, ashamed. Felicity lied to her mother, distracting her with thoughts of spiders.

But Donna’s words captured his attention. “You know what they say about mirrors. Breaking one means seven years of bad luck.”

YES.

Unknowingly, he had blinked that answer, because Donna had spoken the truth—bad luck was the result of the balance being broken, distorted.

But it was the only way to get him out. Felicity would have bad luck for years.

Felicity stared at him, their heads cocked to the side. She waited a couple beats, their gazes locked. Then she quietly whispered “I’m going to get you out. And soon.”

* * *

The first strain of bad luck happened the next day.

Oliver couldn’t believe the audacity that girl had. Breaking a public mirror? Sure, it meant that she was determined and committed to the cause, which he greatly appreciated and admired, but it was reckless.

The Vegas school was old, so it only had one mirror, giant against the wall. Felicity was wearing a long sleeved shirt and gloves, a giant hammer in her hand. It took her ten swings before the entire mirror was in shambles, glass covering the sinks and the floor. She skipped out (Oliver _does not_ like skipping. AT ALL).

However, he found that he could nod and shake his head without her express permission.

The price wasn’t worth it though. She was about to attack the men’s mirror when someone came and found her. They apparently had heard the crashing sounds of the mirror and told the principle. Felicity was suspended and Donna then had to pay for the mirror.

This was bad because it was Felicity’s senior year and she had just applied to MIT. This would stain her record and she couldn’t change it without them knowing.

That’s when the questions started. She had taken to doing her homework in the bathroom, curled up on the counter. She would ask him questions and he would reply with a yes or no head shake. No more watching for blinks thank goodness.

She asked him his favorite color. Felicity had gone through an entire box of Crayola crayons, listing off colors. Oliver decided he liked the “Middle Green” the best.

The same happened with sports and TV shows. Since he was stuck in the mirror verse, he really couldn’t say, so he chose archery at random. And no, he wasn’t Robin Hood.

Questions about the curse he wouldn’t answer. Not because he couldn’t, but because how could he tell her? The mirror verse Reflection had told him that he would have word freedom after the second hand made mirror. He would tell her then.

But Felicity started going to the junkyard, looking for un-cracked mirrors. Damaged ones wouldn’t help him and he was grateful that Felicity seemed to understand this.

It started getting harder, the longer it went on. Fewer and fewer cars with mirrors intact. It was April and Felicity had just received word that she had a scholarship to MIT. To celebrate, she and Oliver went out that night, smashing every mirror insight.

More bad luck came. Since there were so few left, Felicity stayed out half the night and was caught sneaking out of the junkyard. Oliver helped her keep calm, reminding her of her rights. It was good they had watched so many cop shows. Else Oliver wouldn’t have been able to assist her.

Since she was still sixteen, they almost got off with just an arrest and a warning, community service and a heart attack, since the City didn’t want to press charges.

That’s until they found out that Felicity was breaking mirrors. They found the suspension in her school records and the psychological help she had gotten talking to him before she could control her actions. They let her off with one condition.

She had to see a psychologist.

The shrink was majorly concerned, looking at her report. Felicity tried to play it cool, that there wasn’t a boy on the other side of the glass. In the end it was his fault and he felt horrible for the situation he put her in. He kept trying to help her, in the limited way he could, until she told him to shut up—out loud and in front of the doctor. Felicity even used his first name.

The shrink found his name in her file, and decided that she needed to be admitted to the hospital. They pumped her full of meds, gave her color books, and treated her like she was mentally ill. At night, to the darkened window, she confessed to him that maybe she really was crazy. That he wasn’t real.

He did all he could to comfort her. He talked, soothed, admonished. But she slowly withdrew into herself, shutting him out. He didn’t blame her. Talking to him wouldn’t get her out of there. They were both trapped—and neither could free themselves.

A year passed; an exhausting useless year. The hospital finally let her go, thinking she was cured. Felicity was just a better actress than they gave her credit for.

Thanks to Oliver’s remembrance, she had written to MIT requesting a deference for medical reasons. They granted it to her, so together, they flew to Boston.

Perhaps their bad luck was over.

Felicity found an antique shop on her first exploration of downtown Boston. He could see the light in her eyes when she found it, running her fingertips over the glass. Such a thin barrier separated them. Just a few hundred more. They were more than halfway there.

She bought it and found an empty place, with no one around. She took a hammer and took great pleasure in cracking the mirror, he could tell. The widest grin lit up her face and he knew that she hadn’t totally abandoned him.

“Finally.” He breathed, as he felt his vocal chords thaw, his mouth muscles moving. He felt freer, wild.

“What?”

Quickly, he explained the curse to her. She took it all in, asking clarifying questions. He told her what he could, what he remembered. Felicity then smashed several more mirrors that night.

* * *

MIT was rough on them.

The doubts Felicity had in the hospital came roaring back with a vengeance, crippling their relationship. She stopped talking to him, looking in mirrors, doing her homework in the bathroom. He rarely saw her through the day, catching glimpses.

She would find mirrors periodically and break them, but it wasn’t the same. The joy she had before she was arrested had vanished. He might be the one cursed, but Felicity had to pay the darker toll.

Eighteen mirrors were broken at MIT. Four years and only eighteen mirrors. Oliver started to lose faith. He would never be free because Felicity’s heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t believe in him anymore.

Cooper was a big part of that. Oliver _hated_ him, but Felicity had a crush on him. Every time she would casually mention Cooper, a knot twisted inside of Oliver, squeezing his innards. He felt sick, and a hot fire would thrum through him, different from desire.

He was _jealous._

Felicity spent all her time with Cooper, hacking and joking. She dyed her hair black when he introduced her to hacktivism. Oliver saw the spark again, but he was furious because he hadn’t been the one to put it there, Cooper had.

It almost seemed like Felicity had forgotten him, forgotten her promise. But then she would look up and give him a small smile, perhaps a wave. Then she was gone.

The day she told him that she had gone out with Cooper and had sex with him was the day he realized that he was in love with her. With her smile, her fortitude. The way she brushed back her hair behind her ear. She was a genius, so smart and so willing.

Felicity was beautiful inside and out.

Oliver finally understood what the Reflection had meant by Soulmate.

She was his.

The question was: Was Oliver _hers?_

When Felicity told Cooper about him, something that Oliver had protested against vehemently, Cooper had stared. Then he called her crazy. They had a big fight, all over him. The next day, they made up, with Cooper telling her that it was alright. Felicity lied, telling Cooper that the meds made her better, that if she took them she didn’t see Oliver.

That was the final nail in the coffin.

No smiles, no casual waves. Felicity stopped looking in reflective surfaces.

Oliver took the hint and stopped talking.

He was lonely, since he had all this freedom, he could say all the words he had learned by being by her side since childhood, but no one to talk to. She didn’t want to hear him, didn’t want to think about him. Their friendship was strained and Oliver wondered if they would ever get through it.

Then Cooper used her virus to hack into the Department of Education, got arrested and hung himself in jail.

Oliver found her sobbing next to the mirror in the bathroom, babbling all about it. And he did what he did best; he listened.

For days she cried. Told him how much she had loved Cooper, how she would never get to hear his voice again. While Oliver didn’t like the guy, he would never say or do anything to hurt Felicity so he comforted her as best as he could, trapped inside the mirror verse.  

A week after Cooper died, Felicity dyed her hair blonde, changed her clothes, and went and found the nearest junk yard.

He had his best friend back.

The day she graduated MIT, he was so happy for her. They had planned to sit and talk about her future, what company she would work for, that sort of thing. They had gotten through college and it was a time to celebrate.

Or so he thought.

Felicity never showed that night. The only mirror she had was in her bathroom, and she made sure to never look at him. Something had happened and he didn’t know what.

But the next day, she had apologized, telling him that she had been feeling sick, a definite lie. But he forgave her because she was here now.

And he loved her.

* * *

They moved to Starling City, to work for Queen Consolidated. They had chosen them over Kord Industries because once Felicity had stepped foot in Starling, she never wanted to leave. At night they would sit and talk, Felicity telling him about her day. She tried asking him what it was like, but he never told her. He didn’t think it wise to divulge the secrets of the mirror verse.  

One day in May, when she had been working at QC for almost a year, Felicity informed him of her latest embarrassment. She had worn a yellow dress to work today, a color that always made him smile. She was always vivid and sunny and the dress just fit her personality. As did pink. And blue. And red. Definitely red. Felicity was _stunning_ in red. He loved her in red.

But when she had gotten to work, she was surrounded by black and gray. She was the bright spot in a world without color. Felicity had been mortified. He couldn’t help but laugh and she scolded him.

“It’s not very nice to laugh at my misfortunes, Oliver. Everyone looked at me like I was a sore thumb! It was mortifying!”

“Alright, alright. It was bad. I’m sorry for laughing at you.”

“Harrumph.”

But then she proceeded to tell him why. To say that he was shocked was an understatement.

His name was Oliver Queen.

And he was the missing son of the CEO of Queen Consolidated.

The entire city, in his remembrance, wore black, as a testimony to the power and influence the Queen family had on Starling City. They were local celebrities. Billionaires.

He found out he had a sister.

Thea was ten years younger than him, a young teenager by now. She was beautiful, with dark hairs, but the same eyes, Felicity assured him.

He had a family. People other than Felicity.

There was a future waiting for him, the second he got out.

It was all down to Felicity.

That day had solidified Felicity’s belief. She wasn’t insane and he wasn’t imaginary. He was trapped.

She threw herself into mirror fracturing with gusto, using her meager earnings to buy older mirrors. Felicity bought small compact mirrors, went to the junk yard every month. Sometimes she would “borrow” money from his parents to pay for the mirror. She never took a lot, feeling guilty but desperate.

As it were, it took four more years to track down enough. The handmade ones were the worst ones to find. Very few people wanted to sell them, and the ones that did charged an unholy price.

Diggle was a blessing to both of them. While the curse dictated that old mirrors were better, new handmade mirrors would also do the job. A glassblower in downtown, halfway between Felicity’s apartment and Queen Consolidated, John Diggle was found they day after Oliver’s birthday. And he agreed to help them, no questions asked.

Felicity ran her hand over the mirror and he mimicked her. Oliver could almost feel the pads of her fingers.

They were so close.

Just this morning, the last two mirrors were finished; a beautiful handmade handled mirror, probably Victorian era, and Diggle’s finest masterpiece. It was too bad they had to break it.

Oliver was quivering with anticipation, and trembling with unease. He had been in the mirror verse so long, he didn’t know if he could handle being in Reality. He would have his own Reflection, but no longer hear Felicity’s voice in his head, or her image on the other side.

He was terrified he would lose the love of his life.

Turns out, Felicity had the same fear.

It had been two hours. For two hours she had sat there, mirror and hammer in hand, but she kept hesitating. Procrastinating.

Oliver put aside his own misgivings because Felicity needed him. It was vital for him to be strong for both of them.

“Come on, Felicity. I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

“But it will be weird.” He knew the feeling. They had been like this for all her life and most of his. But…

“Weird is good. Weird is change. We all need change.”

Something altered in her gaze, a steely challenge. He had convinced her.

As it was, he could barely see her. The cracks in his mirror had made their way almost to the center. Her voice almost coming though the barrier.

No longer hesitating, she destroyed the Victorian looking glass, causing a breeze to sweep through.

Oliver grunted from the impact, the chill sweeping into his essence.

“If I do this, I won’t hear you in my head anymore. I’m going to miss that most of all.” She was crying. He knew of only one way to comfort her.

“Felicity.” He couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly, the mirror verse Reflection appeared next to him.

“This is it, Oliver. You’ll be set free and order will return here. The next time you look in a mirror, you will have your own Reflection. Good luck.”

Felicity reached up and touched Diggle’s piece. With his own free will, he copied her.

With determination, and an indescribable look on her face, Felicity pulled the hammer back. Her eyes held his, crystalline blue on crystalline blue.

“I love you.”

He barely registered his own shock when the portal in front of him vanished, Felicity receding from his view. She loved him. After all this time, and everything that they had been through, she loved him.

She loved him.

The Reflection next to him shuffled, gently reminding him of his presence.

“Go to her.” He gestured towards the gaping hole, the rush of air sucking through. Closing his eyes, he jumped out of the great white room into the vacuum. Towards his future.

He landed in her living room, the rush and adrenaline still with him. He was exhilarated. He was finally free.

He had landed to the right of Felicity, just passed her solid form. She had her head down, braced against the wind. Abruptly it cut off, filling the room with eerie silence.

Oliver looked into the cracked mirror, strange to see what was apparently himself staring back at him.

He was tall, taller than Felicity, and had dark sandy hair. The facial hair she had run her hands over so long ago framed his strong jaw. His green jacket was worn, the blue button up underneath straining over his chest.

What captivated him most was his eyes. They were blue, but of a different shade than Felicity’s. Darker, with a hint of green.

In the glass he met Felicity’s eyes and they stared at each other for the space of a breath. Acting on some notion, the desire to touch her, feel her, overwhelming him, he embraced her from behind, their eyes still connected in the mirror.

Felicity broke contact, whirling around and pushing her face into his chest, her hands clutching his jacket.

He was there. They both were. This was real and very much happening. This was Felicity, in his arms, breathing, alive. He instinctively tightened his hold on her, basking in her tangible presence.

“Felicity.” He spoke, his voice gruff with emotion. She brought her head up, revealing to him her marvelous eyes. “I love you, Felicity Smoak.”

He kissed her, on the forehead, on the nose and finally, on her lips.

He lost himself in her, into essence all the way to the core of her. They became entwined, their souls uniting. Time seemed to stop. The world turned black and white. It was just them, two souls separated by inconceivable circumstances, but made it through by sheer will and determination.

And Oliver thanked everything he could think of, from the stars to the Lord of the mirror verse that Felicity had accidentally broken that mirror.  

Because they were together, as one.

He could not, _would_ not, exist without her.

Shattered glass would never separate them again.

**Author's Note:**

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